


His

by swampboy666



Category: Jreg, The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Drugs, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Intentional Misgendering, LSD, M/M, Misgendering, Nonbinary Character, Paranoia, Possessiveness, Surveillance, angsty, ansyn was written into the story before jreg made it canon that ancom is ansyn so idk, gifts with a Motive, ideology conflicts with Feelings ooo, only its a bit fucked because its centricide, qui/quem is conjugated as qui/quem/quis, qui/quem pronouns, the q slur, used as a slur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:09:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22992244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swampboy666/pseuds/swampboy666
Summary: Ancom is his, unequivocally, and everyone knows it. Except maybe Ancom.(sort of an unhealthy dependency and possessiveness that isn't treated as a necessarily bad thing ngl. i dunno, centricide is a fucked up series im allowed to have my unhealthy fantasies)
Relationships: Ancom/Commie, Authleft/Libleft, Tankie/Anarkiddie
Comments: 65
Kudos: 416





	1. Chapter 1

Ancom was Commie's, unequivocally, and everyone knew it.

Except maybe Ancom.

Ancom may have been whiny and pathetic at times, but qui was an anarchist- qui was independent, qui beat up fascists, qui hated hierarchy. Qui certainly wasn't for anyone belonging to another person- least of all quemself.

Cat-like, the anarchist stretched out on the couch. Qui positioned quemself comfortably, and began playing with quis hoodie strings as qui drew out a plastic bag from quis pocket with a small square of paper inside.

Quis fingers were small and thin, but they were trembling. They tended to be like that when qui was sober for too long. Qui drew out the paper and placed it in quis mouth. The process had become natural to quem- qui'd simply wait an hour or so for the effects to kick in.

Time passed. As Ancom stared up at the ceiling, the light from the windows gained a rainbow halo surrounding them. Ancom felt airy, weightless, relaxed. Quis anxiety was only ever gone when qui was on some kind of substance. Quis hands were still unsteady, but qui didn't really care. The world passed and qui felt content to let it.

"Ancom-"

Ancom looked over to the voice. Qui recognized Ancap, but quis thoughts and feelings seemed to swell with confusion. Ancap was different.

Ancap cleared his throat, almost looking amused. "Ancom, have you seen Nazi anywhere?"

Nazi. Hatred was a raging, hungry tide inside of Ancom. But Ancap didn't share that. The notes in Ancap's voice were flowy and usually dismissive, but all of his words faded away until Ancom could feel it tugging at quem- the way Ancap said _Nazi_ with admiration and warmth, completely out of character for the capitalist.

Ancom just shrugged quis shoulders, grinning.

"Oh, Ancom," Ancap sighed. "You get so distracted when you're tripping."

"The world's a big place full of color," Ancom said softly. "Hard to stay focused."

Ancap smiled- was he endeared? "Whatever keeps you from having those annoying breakdowns of yours."

"You're- you- what's going on with you and Nazi?" Ancom blinked. Qui had opened quis mouth and the words had come out before qui had time to think about them.

"Me and Nazi?" Ancap shrugged. "Business between friends."

"Friends with benefits," Ancom said. Ancap's expression changed- it wouldn't have been as noticeable before, with the sunglasses, but Ancom was aware of the shift.

"You're high," was all Ancap said before leaving the room. Like a revolving door of extremists, Commie was next to enter. Ancom felt anxious- acutely, differently than usual. Commie didn't approve of quis drug habits. Qui felt like a disobedient child around him sometimes- and that was weird.

"Anarkiddie," Commie greeted.

"Tankie," Ancom returned, smiling despite quemself. Commie just frowned. Ancom watched the light behind him swirl.

"You seem a bit distracted," Commie said. "We have talked about you using drugs to deal with depression."

"Okay, boomer," that was the best retort Ancom could come up with.

Commie just sighed. "I'll get you some water. The high lasts ten hours, da? Did you eat something before you started?"

Ancom just groaned. "Statist's gonna take away my rights again, big surprise."

"Your rights?" Commie raised his eyebrows. "Your rights to starve yourself? Under communism we take care of each other."

"Unless we all starve," Ancom said.

"Don't disrespect my past that way, Anarkiddie," Commie's voice dropped. Ancom registered it, but no fear surfaced through quis blissful high. "Now you have to tell me. Did you eat anything before you started your- uh- drugs?"

"Nope," Ancom said. "But LSD takes away my appetite. I feel fine."

"I know that," Commie said, patience waning. "That's why I'm concerned."

Ancom sunk deeper into quis hoodie. Qui felt like Commie's eyes were scathingly hot, searching quem. Suddenly a large, calloused hand gently grabbed quis and rolled down one of quis hoodie sleeves.

"Your arms are so thin, Comrade," Commie said. They looked bony to Ancom (and the tiny scars on quis veins where qui'd injected quemself certainly didn't make quem look healthier) but it never really concerned quem. Commie, however, was looking at quem like qui was fragile enough to break if someone touched quem too roughly. "Stay here."

Ancom groaned as Commie went into the kitchen. In a few moments, he re-emerged with a plate of small, golden brown bread pastries and a glass of water.

"I know you are vegan," Commie said. "Or vegetarian, or whatever, so this Poroshki only has cabbage and potatoes in it."

Ancom felt flushed up to quis ears. "O-oh?"

Commie chuckled. "Why so embarrassed?"

Ancom rubbed the back of quis neck. "Just… when did you have the time to make food that I could eat?"

Commie shrugged. "I get up earlier than you, and I enjoy baking."

"Thank you," Ancom said. Qui felt so filled to the brim with emotions that qui might cry. LSD made quem feel so much more intensely, and qui already was very emotional.

Ancom picked up one of the Poroshkis (a Poroshki? Qui wasn't very familiar with that word) and placed it in quis mouth. It was actually not that bad. On his second one, qui forgot how to use quis mouth and the whole thing felt like a learning process. Commie grabbed one of Ancom's hands to steady quem and gently guide the pastry into quis mouth. Ancom felt a bit embarrassed at how quis motor skills had failed quem (perhaps qui had taken too much) but Commie's hands felt warm and gentle.

Commie brought the water to Ancom's lips and made quem drink. He set the glass aside after a few moments, then thoughtfully sat beside the anarchist.

Ancom found quemself subconsciously leaning against Commie, who sighed and said "Oh, Anarkiddie," before wrapping an arm around quem. It was odd- Ancom felt safe. Warm. Commie was warmth, familiarity, protection. Ancom wondered if qui should be feeling this way. An anarchist feeling comfortable in the controlling hands of a statist. The irony hurt- made quem feel very wrong.

Ancom began to realize that quis independence may have been an illusion the whole time- perhaps the protection that Commie gave quem was a way of controlling quem. Keeping quem docile. Keeping them comrades.

These thoughts persisted even when the high wore off. From the comfort of quis bed Ancom gripped quis stuffed rabbit that smelled vaguely of weed and wondered if Ancap was right when he said that Ancom was a statist whenever it benefitted quem. With Commie, it _did_ benefit quem. Handouts and protection and friendship kept Ancom comfortable, kept quem happy. But maybe it was making quem docile. Maybe it was manipulating quem.

Ancom let out a breath, worrying the soft ears of the rabbit. Independence was important to quem. Relying on Commie made quem a hypocrite.

Qui went out in the yard, smoked a joint, and came back in when quis hands steadied. The thoughts persisted into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ancom has a talk with Ancap and later sees Commie, who gives quem a nice gift that sparks some serious paranoia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE: so i added a bit of an extra scene right after the bit with ancap to give some more thematic vibes for what i'm going for, but warning that it's sorta creepy and quite a bit more dark and paranoid than i was intending. but i kind of like it this way? i dunno, i hope you guys like it.

Ancom sat down across from Ancap at the table. The Capitalist was typing something into his laptop while sipping coffee every few moments. Ancom couldn't help playing with quis sleeves and staring at quis lap, periodically chewing quis lip.

This went on for a few minutes before Ancap sighed dramatically, slid the laptop out of the way, and leaned on a hand. "What do you want, Ancom?"

"Has Nazi ever tried to... control you, Ancap?"

"I mean, sure," Ancap said. "Wait. You mean..." Ancap suddenly lowered his sunglasses. "Sexually?"

"No, no," Ancom sighed. "I already know that. I mean politically."

"Look, I'm not above it, I'll do anything for the right price, but-" Ancap said, and Ancom just shook quis head.

"Look, has Nazi ever tried to make you content with the state by... doing things for you? Taking care of you? Making you rely on him?"

Ancap laughed. "Ancom, that is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Nazi is incapable of doing anything nice for other people- except, I suppose I have taken bribes to not say anything about the extent of his fascism- but, either way, I'm not someone who's easily pushed around and uh... dominated." Ancap shot Ancom a pointed look from under his sunglasses.

"Alright, alright, I was just wondering," Ancom pouted.

"You know," Ancap said. "I know what this is about."

Ancom flushed a little. "Oh."

"It's about you and Commie, isn't it?"

Ancom tapped quis fingers against the table, kicking quis legs. "Yeah, I guess it is."

A grin spread onto Ancap’s face, the kind of sick grin he got when he had an idea. It made Ancom uneasy. “I knew it. I knew you would realize it sooner or later. Those,” he lowered his voice to a sneer, “ _Statists_ just have a power fetish. The only true way to run a society is with pure freedom.”

Ancom nodded, then shrugged. “Well, you don't have much room to talk, considering-”

“Oh, please, Ancom,” Ancap said. “I’m more on your side than that commie will ever be.”

“Well- I need some advice, then,” Ancom said. “You’ve kept from being manipulated by Nazi for this long, so you must know something.”

Ancap shrugged, feigning neutrality (seemed like a centrist move to Ancom- although qui never was as eager about centricide as the other extremists). “Well, you’ve got to stop accepting handouts- or gifts from him. Stop letting him rescue you every time you’re in a fight. Relying on a Statist is just making him more powerful.”

Ancom nodded, feeling a bit more sure of quemself. “Yeah. I guess I just… I figured I needed him until now.”

Ancap sat up. He lifted the sunglasses, for once attentive. "You're an anarchist, Ancom. At some point you need to figure out how to get rid of the statist or there will be no place for you."

There was a moment of silence between the anarchists, and then Ancap drew back his hand and turned back to his laptop, clearing his throat.

"Stock markets don't play themselves," he said, waving a hand at Ancom.

“I should probably go anyway,” Ancom said. “It’s been too long since I’ve stirred up some real rebelli- I mean- anarchy.”

~

Ancom couldn't help but feel... uncomfortable around Commie, lately. The man tended to have no qualms about keeping a close eye on his comrade- Ancom could recall smashing hidden cameras qui'd found around the house in the past. But qui thought less of that recently than ever- qui didn't exactly expect Commie to pick that habit back up after the last time they'd had a talk about it.

Ancom has been so angry when qui'd found one in quis room- qui'd smashed it with quis bat and crushed it with quis foot and chewed Commie out about it for a good hour. Commie had conceded that it wasn't appropriate behavior, but had expressed such concern about Ancom's drug habits that he almost made it seem less creepy.

 _Almost_.

Ancom felt that creeping suspicion crawling down quis spine again, the feeling that Commie knew something he didn't. The tankie's burning stare made quis stomach drop. Qui'd been avoiding him all day- and tried not to act suspicious- but it was hard when every time Commie approached quem qui would fumble with quis things and come up with an excuse to leave the room.

Ancom finished quis throw-a-Molotov-through-a-Walmart-window spree (and not to mention, successfully evaded the cops) and gripped quis bat in between quis hands.

Qui ran quis finger through the anarchy symbol carved into the surface, feeling an uncomfortable dissatisfaction emerging from its place, buried by quis previous drug and property damage-fueled high.

Qui heard the door unlock and scrambled into the kitchen, desperate to pretend qui'd been doing anything but sitting on the floor brooding.

"Hello, Anarkiddie," Commie greeted as he entered the room. "I brought you something I think you will like."

Ancom blinked, nearly frozen in place. "Y-yeah?"

"You seem… cold… often." was that unsurety in the Marxist's voice? "I acquired this blanket, it is very soft and has cats on it. You like cats, da?" Commie held it out to quem. A peace offering? They hadn't been fighting. A gift? Seemed a bit out of nowhere. Mutual aid? ...Ancom decided to go with that one.

Ancom just gave a nod, too surprised to do anything. Qui couldn't keep track of quis emotions. Commie wrapped the blanket around quis shoulders, then gave quem a slight nod.

"Stay warm, Comrade,"

Ancom stood in the kitchen long after Commie was gone, inspecting the blanket. It was heavy and soft, the thick warmth making quem feel like qui was wrapped in an embrace, like qui was wrapped in Commie's-

Fuck.

Ancom tightened the blanket around quemself sheepishly. It was green, with little white cat faces printed on it. It seemed a bit too nice, and too out of nowhere. Had Commie noticed Ancom had been avoiding him?

The blood rushed to quis face, quis palms suddenly clammy. Commie was keeping an eye on quem.

 _This whole paranoia about him watching me... this is just like that book. The dystopian one, by that Orwell guy._ Ancom had read the SparkNotes for the book and it seemed like a pretty bad situation. Qui looked down at the blanket. A warning?

Qui sat in quis room for hours, scrolling through Tumblr, too anxious to sleep. Something didn't seem right about this gift. Until 2 AM, no paranoia was strong enough to dissuade quem from holding on to the gift- at least, not until qui'd figured out the truth.

But as soon as the digital clock on quis computer switched from 1:59 to 2:00, the blanket fell to the floor.

_A bribe._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ancom talks to Ansyn and then hides in his room for days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey important note that i added a little more description in the last chapter (right after the break after Ancom's talk with Ancap) to drive the thematic point home a bit more, but i have to warn you that it got a little darker than i expected. there's a lot of that in this chapter too. planning on the next one to be a very soft one comparatively so we hope and pray i deliver lmao.

"I can't believe he's- he's trying to _domesticate_ me,"

"Ancom." Ansyn frowned, leaning their head against their hand. "Doesn't really seem like a big deal to me. He gives you shit all the time."

Ancom fretted with quis sleeves, letting out a breath.

"Yeah but this time it's _different_ , Ansyn, I feel like he's been- watching me- or something," Ancom rocked quis body forward, nervously gripping quis sleeves. "I was avoiding him all day yesterday- and- out of nowhere he gets me a gift? He's trying to _bribe_ me into- into- I don't know!"

"You could just be paranoid," Ansyn shrugged. It occured to Ancom that Ansyn didn't really know about all of the less than charming ways Commie had tried to control quem (the surveillance certainly came to mind). "You've been smoking a lot lately."

"I've been smoking a lot _because_ I'm paranoid," Ancom leaned quis upper body forward, quis breath shaky. "Ansyn… I-I'm scared, man."

"Hey, hey, dude," Ansyn wrapped an arm around their friend. "C'mon, Ancom, what's going on with you?"

Ancom couldn't help but lean into the embrace, and Ansyn gently threaded their fingers through quis hair. The sympathy qui received just made quem tear up.

"I don't know," Ancom said, a pitiful sob in quis voice. "I just feel _weird_."

"Ancom, it's okay," Ansyn soothed. "Just relax for a sec, okay?"

Ancom sniffed, getting a grip on quis emotions for a second before more tears stung quis eyes. "'Kay…"

"You'll figure it all out, I'm sure you will," Ansyn said. "You don't have to jump to conclusions- not like you usually do. Just… take this one slow, okay?"

Ancom nodded into quis friend's shoulder, taking a few deep breaths. Maybe qui was blowing this out of proportion.

Still… Commie's tenderness and kindness- although Ancom craved it on some level, it seemed very odd. Commie wasn't like that with anyone else. Commie tried to control Ancom, tried to manipulate queminto being complacent with whatever authoritarian behavior qui was exhibiting. And often, Ancom _was_ fine with it- the guidance felt… nice, sometimes. And qui _did_ feel safe with Commie-

Ancom grabbed onto Ansyn's hoodie, burying quis face in their chest. "Please don't let me become a bootlicker."

Ansyn chuckled. "You got it, bud."

"I mean it. I'm an anarchist to my core- and I usually hate all authority- but _his_ authority- God… I don't know."

Ansyn was quiet for a long moment. Maybe too long.

"Ancom…" Ansyn hummed lightly, stroking their friend's hair. "It's… okay. To like. That."

"W-what?" Ancom sat up to look at the other anarchist, face flushed red.

Ansyn rubbed the back of their neck, sheepish. "Well- just 'cause you don't like unjust hierarchy… doesn't mean you can't like… uh…" Ansyn fumbled with their words, getting more uncomfortable the longer Ancom stared at them.

"I-?!" Ancom was flushed up to quis ears. "I don't- I don't think it's what you think it is, Ansyn."

"Well- just because you're an anarchist doesn't mean you can't be a s-"

"Don't." Ancom warned, and Ansyn quickly put their hands up in defeat.

"Okay, okay, I tried," Ansyn sighed. "Look, dude, this is turning you into a nervous wreck. I'm worried about you, man, I really am."

"I know, I know," Ancom let out a shaky breath.

"Should I do something?" Ansyn said. "...should I talk to him?"

"No, no, no, that's fine, Ansyn," Ancom blurted out. "Right after realizing I'm a hypocritical anarchist- letting you fight my battles for me would be a little…"

"Well, the offer's still up," Ansyn said. "Anarchy's about destroying unjust hierarchies and freedom from the state. Don't let that ancap manipulate you into thinking you're not supposed to accept help just because you're an anarchist. Mutual aid and all that."

"I feel like people have been telling me what to think about a lot of things," Ancom said.

Ansyn just quietly nodded, letting their friend slowly sink back into place leaning against them.

"Just… we can talk about this when you're calmer, alright?"

"Which part?"

"All of it. I promise," Ansyn said. Ancom let out a comfortable sigh.

"Okay,"

~

Nazi's slurs had become background noise, which was definitely the weirdest part about living with the extremists. A month ago, Ancom wouldn't have conceptualized the idea of putting up with racism of any kind. Now, it was blended in with the noise from quis earbuds.

Qui slammed quis bat against the wall seperating Nazi's room from quis. "STOP BEING SO FUCKING RACIST!" qui shouted, clobbering the bat against the wall again, so hard that the indent that was already there became deeper.

"Shut up, queer," Nazi said through the wall.

"Ancom, you better not be damaging my property again," the voice was from the other wall, belonging to Ancap. Ancom cringed, going quiet.

"Anarkiddie?"

Ancom suddenly sunk back onto quis bed, pulling quis hood up.

"Anarkiddie, I think this silent treatment is very childish,"

Dead silence. Ancom fiddled with quis hoodie strings.

"He hasn't even left that room for days," Ancap said. "And he's been pussying out of talking to you for even longer."

Ancom scowled.

"Ancom? Pussying out?" Nazi seemed to have left his room specifically to join the conversation. "I'm _shocked_ , I really am."

"I will leave quem be for another hour," Commie said. "But any longer in there and I will pick the lock."

"Why don't you just let him starve, it's what you're good at," Ancap said snarkily.

"Why don't you just exploit him for profit and then let quem starve, it's what _you're_ good at."

"I fully intend to do so," Ancap said.

"Oh please," Nazi said. "He's throwing a tantrum like a child. His father must not have disciplined him properly. I could beat some sense into him if you would just-"

"You do not _touch_ quem," Commie snapped, and there was a slam that made Ancom jump.

"Calm down, Commie," Nazi's voice was calm despite whatever Commie had done to him. "I won't touch your precious queer."

"See to it that you don't," Commie snarled.

Ancom was barely processing everything that was going on. One thing qui did know, however, was that qui would die before qui walked out and faced Commie. Qui squirmed a bit, feeling self-conscious just thinking about it.

However- if qui waited in quis room like a sitting duck- Ancom had no idea what Commie was threatening to do to quem.

Still, qui felt it was more important to stand quis ground. Qui grabbed quis bat through shaky hands, preparing to defend quemself. Commie was imposing, taller than all the other extremists, toned and muscular. Ancom was petite by comparison, the shortest and possibly skinniest. But a good hit to the head with a wooden bat would take anyone down- Ancom had fought nazis bigger than Commie and held quis own pretty well.

Commie had never given Ancom a reason to attack him- but qui was more suspicious than ever. Qui was unstable from a lack of food or sleep, shaky and pale. Qui'd been mostly subsisting off adderall and weed.

Time passed. Ancom wasn't entirely aware of it. Qui fidgeted with quis bat and checked the time on quis phone. Qui had ten minutes to change quis mind. Qui turned off the screen, set the phone aside, and took a very slow, deep breath. Qui had a white knuckled grip on quis bat.

"Anarkiddie," Commie's voice sounded through the door. Ancom stood up, trembling in every limb. "Ancom."

A clicking noise, followed by the door being slid open.

Commie stood for a moment in Ancom's doorway, and neither leftist said anything for a moment. Commie moved closer, slowly, as if approaching a frightened cat. Ancom gripped quis bat harder, raising it in warning. Commie paid it no mind.

"What's going on?" the communist took another step forward. Ancom backed up.

The bat shook in Ancom's hands. Qui swung. Commie's hand shot out, grabbing the end of the bat, expression stoic. Ancom stared at Commie, eyes wide, and barely resisted when the large man pried the bat out of quis hands.

"Anarkiddie," Commie said. "Are you okay?"

Ancom just stared for too long, backing up a little more. "...no," qui said finally.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wowie more Dramatic Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this chapter sitting in my google docs for too long. I wanted a perfect way to end the chapter but I figured I may as well post it as is, since I've made you all wait for so long. (I'm really sorry about that btw)

"Anarkiddie," Commie said. His voice was soft. "Please, let me…"

Ancom let out a breath, backed against the wall. Quis entire body was trembling, hands and knees particularly unable to steady themselves.

"I didn't want to upset you but I really think you should have something to eat," Commie said.

Ancom just shrugged in response, letting Commie go on.

"I do not see what has gotten into you these past few days, comrade. I would rather you feel good enough to take care of yourself, but if you need help I will be more than willing to be the one to give it to you."

Ancom blinked. "Tankie," qui said, voice weak.

"Da?"

"Give me the bat," Ancom said. "Please."

"Comrade, you are not in condition to be wielding a weapon of any kind," Commie said. "Besides, I don't think it would do you much good, anyway. Fighting while you're like this will just lead to you getting hurt."

Ancom scowled. "I'm not a child. I can make my own decisions."

"I know, Anark-" Commie cleared his throat. "Ancom. I know you are not a child, but you have to admit you are not in best state of mind or body for picking fights. You are lucky you picked a fight with me rather than Nazi or Ancap."

Ancom looked up at Commie. "I need it because I have to protect myself from _you_."

Ancom reached a hand to swipe the bat, and Commie just pulled it away.

"Da? And what makes you think I would attack you, Anarkiddie?" a light smile was pulling at Commie's lips.

"You're making fun of me,"

"I'm not," Commie said. "I just think it's… a little bit silly for you to be afraid of me. I've done nothing but protect you."

"Your 'protection' is nothing but manipulation and control," Ancom said, grabbing Commie's wrist. "It isn't fair for you to take my weapon from me when I just want to protect myself."

"I do not see any threats, Anarkiddie," Commie said smoothly. He gently placed his free hand on top of Ancom's and removed it from his wrist with little effort. Ancom felt quis heart race. Commie was even stronger than qui'd realized, somehow.

"You're the threat!" Ancom said. "You- you-"

"Ancom," Commie said evenly. "I don't think you realize what is going on here. I am very capable of inflicting great harm to you- you saw how simple it was for me to remove this bat from your little hands, and escape from your cute attempt at an intimidating wrist grab. You would be incredibly easy to crush." Commie took a step closer. "And yet, I put up with your disrespect instead. And that's because you are _my_ Anarkiddie. Do you understand? I don't want anyone harming you."

Ancom was drawing a blank on what to say. Qui could have yelled. Qui could have questioned. Qui could have said anything, but in that moment quis brain and mouth were not in sync.

"Anarkiddie," Commie said. "You are not well. We can talk about this later. Come here."

Ancom stood stiffly for a moment before approaching Commie.

"I…" Ancom said. "What do you mean, _your_ Anarkiddie?"

Commie went very still, then rested a hand against Ancom's shoulder with a sigh.

"You really shouldn't…"

"No," Ancom said. "Commie."

Commie blinked. He towered over Ancom, which made the small anarchist shift a little, uncomfortable. "Anarkiddie,"

"Y-yeah?"

"I have always protected you. And I plan on continuing to do so," Commie said. "Nothing else matters right now. Please, Comrade, come with me."

Ancom felt qui had been on quis feet for too long. The blood had all centralized there from quis legs being stiff and locked in place. Qui was barely stable, shaking to quis core. Qui grabbed Commie's blazer to ground quemself, suddenly feeling very tired now that the adrenaline of the moment had worn off. Commie glanced at Ancom, then carefully placed a hand on quis shoulder. When his hand came down, it brushed against Ancom's neck, making the anarchist shiver. The touch was unfamiliar, but it was steadying. Commie paused for a moment before guiding Ancom out of the room.

Qui let the Communist give quem some weird unfamiliar Russian stew, which was weirder because it had no meat and mostly was cabbage-flavored. Ancom was used to less than stellar food- in almost every commune qui'd lived in, no one had been able to cook vegan food worth shit- qui ate it without complaint and felt a bit more clear-headed.

"I am sorry if I intimidated you, Comrade," Commie said.

Ancom was quiet, then nodded. "Yeah… uh… I forgive you."

Commie smiled, almost sheepishly? A weird look for him.

“I still... “ Ancom frowned. “I still don’t get what you were on about earlier. Can I be honest, Commie?”

“Sure,”

“It kinda freaked me out,” Ancom said. “And you’ve been freaking me out a lot lately. I’m not sure how to handle… this…” qui motioned to the space in between quemself and the communist.

“What do you mean?” Commie frowned.

“This… thing,” Ancom said. “Whatever we are, our relationship to each other. It confuses me. It- it seems to compromise a lot of what I care about.”

Commie fell silent for a moment. Ancom could hear the communist’s fingers tapping against the wooden coffee table. Neither leftist spoke for the next few minutes. Ancom couldn’t decide if qui preferred it that way or not.


End file.
